


Silver Linings

by Alexannah



Series: Rockabye [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3404069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexannah/pseuds/Alexannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is trying to teach his companion to cook. Some dodgy mushrooms bring back memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Linings

**Author's Note:**

> Could be read on own.

**Silver Linings** by Alexannah

Rose had never been much of a cook. While she and the Doctor frequently sampled local food from wherever happened to take their fancy, the TARDIS kitchen was still in regular use. Nine hundred years had made the Doctor a pretty decent chef, and he had decided that it was about time he taught his companion.

“Found some.” Rose brandished a bag of frozen mushrooms at the Doctor. “How many do we need? Oh, and you seriously need to sort out that freezer of yours, searching it’s like being in the arctic in a blizzard.”

“Here, you take the wheel,” the Doctor said, moving back from the bubbling saucepan and handing her the spoon. “I’ll get these ready.”

“Are you sure I’m ready for this? I’m sure you don’t want me to burn down the kitchen. Again.”

“Rose, I believe you’re ready for stirring duty.”

The Doctor defrosted and started slicing the mushrooms as Rose tended to the saucepan. Every now and then he popped a whole one in his mouth. “Doctor, you’re eating all my ingredients!”

“No I’m not. Just one more.” The Doctor crammed his eighth, which was the size of two, in his mouth and tried to speak through it, failing miserably.

“I love mushrooms,” he explained, once he’d managed to chew and swallow it a minute later.

“Really, I would never have guessed.”

A companionable silence fell between them as together they cooked the risotto, broken only by the Doctor’s gentle instructions and an occasional query from Rose. Once it was done, Rose proudly dished up, and the Doctor picked up his fork. Rose turned to put the saucepan in the sink.

The Doctor’s fork fell to the ground with a clatter as his stomach contracted in acute pain, and he gasped, doubled over.

“Doctor?” Rose turned around. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he gasped.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but staggered to his feet and seized the empty mushroom bag, looking at the label. It simply read ‘mushrooms’ in Gallifreyan, but the writing wasn’t his.

“Don’t eat that.” The Doctor dropped the bag, turned and seized Rose’s plate from under her nose. “Whatever you do, don’t eat that.”

Still bent over in pain, he scraped the risotto into the bin and Rose cried in protest. “Doctor, why?”

“Bad mushrooms. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad mushrooms.” He dropped the plate, it missed the table and smashed on the floor. Rose was at his side in an instant, arm around his shoulders, just as he sank to the floor, hissing slightly. “Oooow.”

“What do I do?” Rose sounded panicked; she knew eating the wrong mushrooms could be deadly. “Should I get you to the med bay?”

The Doctor shook his head. “No need. T’ll pass. Just my room. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Come on then.” Rose looped one of his arms around her shoulder and helped him to his feet. The Doctor stumbled, his insides clenching in agony, and he had to lean on her as she half-dragged him to his room. The journey seemed to take forever, but finally they reached it, and the Doctor collapsed on his bed in relief.

“Is there anything I can do, Doctor?”

“Could you get me a bowl, please,” he said into his pillow.

He felt Rose’s hand stroke his hair. “You feel sick?”

“Not yet. ‘N couple of hours. May as well be prepared.” He shuddered.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

-

_Theta Sigma curled up closer in the corner, trying to slow his hearts rate. He’d never liked small, dark places, but Koschei had insisted that it was best to hide until dinner was over. If someone was sent to his room, or he was spotted in the halls, he’d be in trouble; but if he managed to wait it out until curfew, his absence at the table would be forgotten._

_He just wished he didn’t have to hide in a cupboard. Enclosed spaces left him breathless, bringing back old memories. And he hated the dark even more. In the dark, he was almost helpless. Throwing up for hours was almost preferable to hiding in the cupboard._

_He felt his stomach growling and wished Koschei would hurry up. How long could snaffling food from the kitchens take?_

_The cupboard door vibrated suddenly—once, twice, thrice—four knocks. Theta breathed again as light filtered in the widening gap._

_“Please tell me you found me something to eat, I’m famished.”_

_Koschei just grinned and presented him with a plate piled high with various finger foods._

_“No mushroom in any of it?”_

_“I’m offended you’d think I was stupid enough for that.”_

_“Thanks.” Koschei was supposed to be keeping watch while Theta dug in, but he seemed to be watching him instead. “What?”_

_“You know, I’ve been thinking.”_

_“About what?”_

_“Mushrooms. I’ve never heard of anyone getting ill like you do.”_

_Theta shrugged. “So?”_

_“So I looked them up. Check this out.” Koschei passed him a textbook. Theta glanced at it as he ate. Mushrooms are a universal vegetation ... The most diverse range of mushroom types are found on Earth ... The single type grown on Gallifrey ..._

_“I don’t get it.”_

_“Come on, Theta, think.” Koschei pointed at the last line. “I reckon that’s why you can’t keep them down.”_

_Theta shut the book forcefully, almost trapping his friend’s fingers in. “Oy!”_

-

Rose set a large plastic bowl on the floor next to the bed, and began gently wiping the Doctor’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. “So, what’s wrong with those mushrooms? Were they out of date?”

“They’re from Gallifrey,” he replied, eyes still closed. “Don’t stop that, s’nice.”

“Wow. Way out of date then.”

“No, that’s not it, my freezer can keep food for centuries ... M’intolerant. Always have been. I‘ll be fine, just ill for a while.”

“Couldn’t you have kept the risotto for me?”

“Gallifreyan mushrooms aren’t suitable ...” he paused, shuddering. “They’re not supposed to be eaten by anyone other than Time Lords.”

“Oh. What would have happened if I’d eaten them?”

“I don’t know. Might have been lethal.”

Rose shivered. “That was a close call then. Maybe it’s about time you cleaned out your freezer.”

He didn’t answer, just leaned further into her touch. She smiled.

“So if you can’t eat them, and no human can, why’d you have them?”

“Didn’t know I did, must have belonged to another Time Lord who travelled in here. Or Lady. You’re right.”

“About what?”

“I should clean it out.”

It was difficult to tell, as he had had his eyes closed the whole time, but after a few minutes’ quiet Rose thought he’d dozed off. She stayed where she was, wondering idly what it was like to be ill without anyone to look after you. Good thing she was there for him now.

Every piece of information she knew about the Doctor, she stored in a special place in her mind, and her heart. It was so rare for him to give away something personal about himself, and there must be so much in that head of his to tell, that she hung onto every tantalising nugget of information, no matter how minor.

A mushroom intolerance hardly rated highly on the list of things she knew about him, but it was still part of who he was. And she would treasure that fact forever.

After a while he stirred, and his eyes flickered open, brown irises looking vulnerable and a bit groggy. “Rose?”

“I’m still here, Doctor.”

“Mm. Thanks,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. After a moment he shifted so his head was almost in her lap. Rose grinned to herself. No doubt he would later claim that it was involuntary and he hadn’t known what he was doing, but she knew him better than that. She stroked his hair and he gave a small sigh, but almost immediately pain creased his face, which was paling dramatically, and he jerked upwards and towards the edge of the bed.

Rose didn’t have a particularly strong stomach, but the Doctor had previously taken care of her when she was sick—in her case, from a harmless-sounding cocktail—and she was determined to return the favour. She held him while he threw up, rubbing his shoulders the way he had comforted her, and he had managed to gasp out a thank-you during a pause.

The sickness lasted a very long time, but finally it stopped. The Doctor was still white and sweaty, but leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Finished?”

“Think so.”

“Here, let me get rid of this.” Rose disposed of the waste then, upon his instructions, came back in with two jugs of water. He washed his mouth out with one, then drained the other.

“Better?” Rose asked, putting them aside.

“Mm.” He was frowning into his pillow.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Mm. Bit.”

“You should get some sleep, you look like you need it.”

“Yeah.”

“Doctor?”

“Mm?”

“You’re still in your clothes.”

“Oh …” he muttered.

Rose waited, but he didn’t move. “Do you want a hand?”

“Mm.”

She wasn’t convinced he was completely aware of what she had said, but proceeded to gently unbutton his suit. He still didn’t react; she figured he was half-asleep already. Probably for the best. She eased his clothes off him, down to his underwear, and looked around for pyjamas but couldn’t work out where he kept them. Instead, Rose fetched an extra blanket and went to put it over him, pausing when she spotted something.

On one of his arms, right at the top, was a mark. She’d never seen it before, he’d always worn sleeves around her. Some sort of symbol, but nothing she recognised—and it looked like it had been branded.

It looked old. But that couldn’t be right—surely something like this would have been lost when he regenerated?

Rose felt sicker looking at the scarring than she had while watching him throw up. She covered his shoulders up with the blanket, and tucked it round him. Somehow, she figured this was a nugget that she would never get the story to. And as much as she treasured the things she knew about the Doctor—the good and the bad—a part of her couldn’t help but feel relieved. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know about this.

He stirred as she tucked him in. “Rose?”

“Sorry,” she half-whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Stay w’me?”

She smiled. “’Course I will.” She climbed in behind him, wrapping an arm around his torso and spooning him, laying her head on his shoulder. He edged closer to her and went still and quiet, his breathing even again.

Rose slept badly, plagued by dreams of poisonous mushrooms and burning torture, but remained cuddled up to the Doctor when she woke. At some point during the night, he had turned so he was clutching her to him like a teddy bear. Rose did not object to the arrangement.

After a long while enjoying the feeling of being so close to him, whilst watching the stars move around his ceiling, Rose was slightly disappointed when he stirred, and woke up properly.

“Wow,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I’d forgotten how horrible that was.” He looked at Rose, saw her expression, and hurried to say, “The being sick, I mean, not the … um … cuddling.”

Rose decided to ignore the last part. “When was the last time you had those mushrooms?”

“Oh, _long_ time ago. I must have been, what … fifteen years old? Yeah, that sounds about right.” He tried in vain to stifle a yawn.

“Feeling better?” Rose inquired.

“Much,” he said, but didn’t make any show of wanting to get out of bed. Rose stayed where she was as well. A slightly awkward silence stretched.

“Took me a while to figure out the common denominator,” the Doctor said suddenly. Rose wondered if he was looking for an excuse not to break their contact. “And then how to avoid them. Otherwise I’d have stopped eating mushrooms before then.”

More nuggets. Rose’s heart was beating too fast, she thought, to be healthy. She wondered if he could feel it.

“What do you mean, figure out how to avoid them?”

“School dinners,” he said with a grimace, as if that explained everything. And actually, it sort of did.

“They didn’t let you leave food on your plate?”

“Correct.”

“Not even if it made you sick?”

The Doctor went quiet, and Rose wondered if she’d pushed him too far, but eventually he answered. “Probably thought I was just making a fuss.” To Rose’s intense disappointment, he turned away from her onto his back, breaking contact, and stretched. “So, where do you fancy going today?”

Instead of an honest answer, which was to stay right where she was next to him, Rose said, “You never took me to Barcelona.”

**The End**


End file.
